The Sky's Trinity
by Henry Cavyat
Summary: When three mysterious beings visit the Big Apple, Elisa and the gargoyles will fight to prevent rot, both physically and emotionally. M just in case for later violent chapters.
1. Death's Introduction

Je suis Mort. To those who do not speak the language of the previous statement, I say this: I am Death. Before I continue, I wish to elaborate upon misconceptions; I wish to assure myself that there will be a lack thereof. I will list these issues to simplify and condense my ramblings:

-First misconception: I am a skeleton cloaked with a scythe. I am no such thing. Why is it that you assume that I must be of your kind (humans) to be seen and/or comprehended? I do take the form of a human, but such assumptions have irked me over the millennia. I do, however, wear a black tuxedo with a sheathed sword to my right. As for bones, I show none, my friends.

-Second misconception: I know the true religion of All that Is. Alas, I do not. I guide the deceased to a place. This place has a checkered floor and an antediluvian door with a brass handle. That is all I know. I cannot clarify what is beyond this door, but I implore this: Do not fear the door.

-Third misconception: I kill the living. I am to blame. Is it the drugs that your kind covets that create such lies? As previously mentioned, I guide the dead. It is Life and the Living themselves that kill. Dispose of the previous hatreds of me.

-Fourth misconception: Death enjoys war. Death enjoys his job. Again, I blame your coveted drugs for such a pathetic idea. [Death] is my existence, not my enjoyment. Well, I cannot lie (more than two times in a century in a dimension, but I digress), so I state this: It is our existence. Who are these others? The Children of the Wretched. They are eldritch tentacles that, on occasion "guide" the deceased. It is possible that they enjoy war, but I am unaware of any proof.

-Fifth misconception: Death picks favorites. Death feels for the living. I cannot feel, physically. I cannot feel pain nor pleasure. I, Death, cannot die. (Excuse my use of the third person.). I cannot display emotions and I have a tendency not to possess them at all. The reason: I was stripped of my emotions the eternity before. I can, on occasion (in other words, rarely), display a particular emotion. I have only chosen one favorite so far, but otherwise I do not feel for your kind. Most of the living maintain a pathetic existence driven by survival or chemicals in the brain.

Beside my rambles; I imagine that you are confused as to why this relates to the world of the creatures known as Gargoyles. Even the imagination can become a reality. Devastation/ Fear, Destruction/Misery and I shall embark on a journey to this realm of half fantasies. I've left you with trifle information. Today, I am generous. So, heed warning to the following:

Violence, me (death), swearing (in intervals), sexual themes (possibly, do not fret, for they will not be strong), confusion and anticlimaxes.

-Sam (Death)


	2. Mort: Le Feu: La Plus Sombre Lune

Title Translation: Death: The Fire: The Darkest Moon

Monday, October 26th, 1996

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. -Jack London

C'était une nuit brumeux. It was a foggy night. Manhattan experienced an unusually thick fog that extended the moonless sky. From above, skyscrapers protruded from the dreamy waves of clouds and mist. Beneath the endless columns of windows, children implored their parents to allow them to stay up past bedtime for trick-or-treat (for when the time came, of course). Unbeknownst to the excited children, a meteor shower was taking place. It was above them that the true beauty of the cosmos presented itself to the mortals of the "big blue rock." Few witnessed the spectacular lightshow; only those in their high-rise offices could catch a glimpse of a light streak across the twinkling sky. The land below did not mirror the moonless, overcast night sky above.

"Where 'da fuck is that bag, man?" called an impatient man into the impenetrable, hazy blackness. He shivered in his grimy coat. "Hurry up! I'm too damn cold!"

"Calm down. Man, you ain't from around here, are ya? Just wait 'til December!" the dealer said as he finished sorting the questionable contents of the plastic bag. He stopped and pointed to his client. "Show me the green."

"Take the fucking cash," the pissed client retorted as he shoved the money in the dealers' face. "If I find one speck of baking soda in there, I swear I'll—"

"I'm done. I would be surprised if those big-assed white folk in Midtown didn't like this…" said the collected dealer as he swapped the bag for the cash. He looked towards the heavens and gazed at the stars. "H-hey, if you grab a taxi, look for meteors. 'Bout time we had a meteor shower…" The client rolled his eyes and turned to leave the bizarre alleyway. As he turned, he knocked over a small, cardboard cylinder. He didn't need to glance to know it was baking soda.

"I'm gunna kill you!" the towering figure of the client roared as he lunged at the scrawny dealer. The startled man pushed himself off the ground and leaped behind a dumpster. The enraged client slammed into the concrete. As the client slowly poised himself, the terrified dealer gingerly edged his way around the dumpster. As he neared the other side, he felt something soft beneath his shoe and a noisome yowl. A stray feline mercilesslynclawed at his pant leggings. "Damn it! You s—" Something smashed him against the wall and gripped his throat.

"Exactly, you son of a bitch! Now, I can squeeze tighter or you can give me a fresh bag!" The client exclaimed. The dealer thrashed his body.

"No! That bag was fresh! It's my last batch! Le—" the dealer choked. He struggled to lift the client's massive arms, but his attacker wasn't deterred.

"Liar! It can't be fresh! I can smell it from here! Give me my damn money back!" As the client hollered at the dealer, he noticed that everything was suddenly brighter and the dealer had mustered enough energy to point behind him. The client spun around.

Pavement and bricks ricocheted off the dumpster. The client dropped the wheezing dealer and gawked at the scene before him. As he gazed, he felt his cash put back in his hand. He ignored it. "What the hell is that?"

The dealer grabbed the handles of the dumpster and held himself steady. He never turned away from the spectacle. "It's a meteor. It's a real, flaming meteor."

+++++Yay! First real chapter done! I had to admit I was pretty anticlimatic, but hopefully there will be improvement. I don't know if I'll be able to update in the next few weeks, but I'll try. One more thing: Almost every chapter title will be in French. I'll translate. No worries!

Comments and criticism greatly appreciated!


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